


If That Door Could Talk.

by BarPurple



Series: Sherlolly Against the World [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awesome Molly Hooper, Case Fic, Clothed Sex, Disturbed Mycroft, Established Relationship, F/M, Intelligence Kink, Language Kink, Porn With Plot, Press and Tabloids, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes and Feelings, Sherlock is a Good Boyfriend, fake case, post case sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 14:27:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5052022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly knows this is a fake case, so what the hell was her mad genius boyfriend playing at today?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not a Case?

Molly had spotted that there was something wrong with this crime scene about two seconds after they had arrived, so she’d lay money that Sherlock had seen it before that. The question now was why were they still here and why was Sherlock being so vague and quiet?

Curiosity won out over directly questioning her boyfriend’s behaviour, so she stood up from where she’d been crouched by the ‘evidence’ and considered what this scene was telling her.

There was blood in this room, quite a large pool of it, but you don’t spend your working life in morgues without becoming familiar with the smell of decomposing blood; that very distinct scent was absent from this scene.

Also noticeable by their absence were the insects. It was a cool day in early spring, so this room should have been buzzing with at least a few _Calliphoridae_. There was a smell of decay in the room, but it didn’t trigger any of Molly’s pathology senses. Truth be told it was making her want to reach for a bottle of Flash and a pair of marigolds. She closed her eyes and concentrated; rotten fruit, just like that summer she’d gone away for a few days without emptying the fruit bowl. 

She took a careful look at Sherlock and the client. Molly might not be able to spot an engineer by his right thumb, but she knew one sided flirting when she saw it. The client was positively fawning over Sherlock and oddly he wasn’t discouraging him. True Sherlock wasn’t actually returning the flirting, but he was tolerating it in such a way as to not put the man off. 

Hum. 

This wasn’t a ploy to make her jealous; he had tried to provoke her green eyed monster once before, for science. The ringing slap he’d received had put him straight on the idiotic nature of that experiment. So what the hell was her mad genius playing at today?

He was standing back at a crime scene. He’d insisted that she accompany him, even though John was free today. He’d cried off on Lestrade who had a case that was certainly more real than this one. He’d been in a strop about that magazine article from a few days ago.

Aha. Molly smirked. Gotcha Sherlock.

Molly made sure she had Sherlock’s eye and did something that no self-respecting pathologist would ever do at a crime scene; she bent down and ran her gloved finger right through the puddle of blood.

“Erm, should you be doing that miss?”

She rubbed her fingers together and smiled as she was proved correct.

“This is the last thing I would do at a real crime scene Mr Carter, but we both know this isn’t a real crime scene.”

Mr Carter’s face darkened for an instant, but then turned into a simpering smile as he place his hand on Sherlock’s forearm and said;

“Well that’s for Mr Holmes to deduce isn’t it miss?”

Between the patronizing tone and his hand on her boyfriend Molly cracked. She snapped her rubber gloves off and twanged them in a ball at Mr Carter’s feet.

“Mr Carter, Sherlock introduced me as Doctor Hooper, as I’m sure you remember. I am a Special Registrar in Pathology at St Barts Hospital. Sherlock relies on my expertise in decomposition and blood analysis. And you sir have been wasting our time.”

She could feel the embarrassed flush trying to rise, but she took strength from the pride in shining Sherlock’s eyes. There was also the satisfaction of watching Mr Carter remove his hand from her boyfriend as he tried to splutter excuses. She caught the tiny nod from Sherlock and carried on.

“This is fake blood; made from corn syrup and colouring agents. The pooling tells me that you tipped in on to the floor from a narrow necked vessel, probably the bottle it came in. You are squeamish, and probably vegetarian, since you decided that rotting fruit would be good enough to fake the smell of decomposing blood. Believe me when I say I can tell the difference. Mr Carter you are guilty of staging a crime scene in order to flirt with Sherlock Holmes.”

Molly gratefully drew in a deep breath, how the hell did Sherlock manage to spout deductions like this all the time without fainting? Mr Carter stared at her, wide eyed and speechless. The sound that Sherlock made to break the silence could have been a cough, but Molly suspected it was a choked chuckle. With his best fake grin on his face Sherlock wrapped his Belstaff tightly around himself and said;

“Mr Carter, consider yourself lucky that I will not be billing you for wasting Doctor Hooper’s precious time.”

The man nodded dumbly. Sherlock turned to Molly with a real smile on his face and offered her his arm.

“Coffee, Doctor Hooper?”

Molly took his arm with a smile.

“Yes, Mr Holmes.”


	2. Cab to Flat Speed Record

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here be smut.

Molly was grateful for Sherlock’s magic cab hailing abilities. She didn’t need any superhuman detective skills to assess his mood; she could feel the arousal coming off him. It was perfectly matched by the feeling rising in her.

Once they were in the cab Sherlock left a respectable distance between them. He was obviously trying to get his transport back under control. Molly decided that control was the last thing they needed at the moment, so she slipped across the bench seat to nestled up to his side. Before he had a chance to tense she stroked the curls just above his ear and whispered.

“There was some real blood flowing at the fake scene.”

He hummed in response.

“Yours and it was all flowing south. It turned you on to watch me deduce that impostor to shreds.”

Sherlock cleared his throat and kept his eyes firmly facing the front, as if the advert screen was the most entrancing thing in the cab. Molly smirked.

“You showing me off like that turned me on too.”

Sherlock swallowed hard and his hand balled into fists in his lap.

“The second we are in your flat you are going to fuck me up against the door.”

He was clearly biting his bottom lip now and the wicked side of Molly made her add;

“I’m glad I’m in a skirt; there won’t be time for us to take off any clothes at all.”

The sound Sherlock made could only be described as a low growl. Before the cab had pulled to a stop outside 221B Sherlock had flung the fare through the partition. The second he could open the door, he leapt out dragging Molly by the hand. 

There was no official speed record for entering 221B and ascending the stairs to the upstairs flat. If there had been it was safe to say that it was broken that day.

Sherlock pulled Molly through the door and slammed her against it, causing it to close with a bang. Panting for breath; their lust blown eyes locked for a second as they bathed in each other’s passionate stare. Sherlock swooped down and crushed his mouth to Molly’s. She met him with equal desire, all hot, wet lips and questing tongues.

Sherlock gave full voice to his animalistic growl as he wrapped his arms around Molly’s waist and hoisted her upwards. Molly moaned against his lips and twisted her legs around his hips, her hands clutching his shoulders as he pinned he to the door with his chest. The kiss broke as Molly gasped, suddenly feeling Sherlock’s hand questing under her skirt at the damp crotch of her knickers.

His head had dropped to her shoulder; he was nibbling and licking at the small amount of exposed skin of her neck. A disappointed sound escaped Molly’s throat as Sherlock’s fingers moved away from her wet sex, so she missed the sound of his zipper. His fingers were back instantly, shoving the cloth of her knickers to one side and guiding himself inside her.  
All movement halted as the sensation of being completely physically connected washed over them. Molly squeezed her pelvic floor muscles causing Sherlock to groan and thrust into her. With his mouth on her neck she could feel the rumble of the words that accompanied every thrust.

“ _Admirabilius. Egregie. Mirabilem. Callidus._ ”

Rolling her hips into every thrust; Molly’s orgasm rushed upon her in ever cresting waves. She was so close.

“Sherlock!”

“Molly!”

A final hard thrust that crushed her against the door tipped her over the edge. Molly’s fingers clawed at Sherlock’s neck and shoulders as she felt him join her in bliss.  
Sherlock’s legs were shaking from effort as he slid to the floor. Ever careful of Molly he managed to get them both to the horizontal level without any uncomfortable trapping or twisting of limbs. They lay side by side, still full clothed, holdings hands, panting in the post coital haze.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

Molly managed to sit up first. Probably because of the wet patch forming on her skirt. Sherlock levered himself up on his elbows and gave her a smile.

“I think we both need a change of clothes.”

Molly gave his crotch a significant look.

“Definatly.”

Puzzled Sherlock turned his gaze down his own body.

“Oh. It would appear I broke my zip.”

Molly gave him a devilish grin as she stood up. She extended a hand to him.

“Come on shower and change, and then I’ll see if I can fix it for you.”

Sherlock waved an elegant hand in a dismissive gesture.

“That’s what my tailor’s for.”

With a shake of her head Molly started towards the bathroom. The audible clicking Sherlock made as he got to his feet made her pause and give him a concerned look.

“It would appear my joints disapprove of that position.”

“We don’t have to do that again.”

Sherlock pouted and crowed her into the bathroom.

“Molly, just because my knees have made their objection clear, it doesn’t mean I will pay them any heed.”

The contented pair disappeared into the bathroom giggling.

At the sound of the shower starting Mycroft cautiously peered around the kitchen door. With a shudder he silently left the flat, making a mental note to announce his presence next time he dropped in unexpectedly; with an air horn if need be.


	3. What's Next?

Molly was sat on the edge of Sherlock’s bed, brushing her shower damp hair into submission, before her mind wandered back to the fake case.

“Sherlock?”

At her call he appeared around the corner of the bathroom door, a toothbrush in his mouth.

“You knew that guy was a fake.”

He vanished back into the bathroom to spit and rinse, and then bounced into the room and on to the bed behind her.

“Yup. Big old fake. Knew from the email on the blog.”

There was an air of happy smugness about him as he settled against the headboard, still bare toes wiggling against her hip. She caught his foot in her hand and idly rubbed her thumb along the arch.

“Not complaining about the outcome, but why go to the scene at all?”

“Mr Carter is the hack that described you as a ‘gal pal’. The suggestion that I let you tag along to crime scenes so you ‘can learn a thing or two’ rather annoyed me. When he sent the fake case in to my blog, obviously fishing for first hand details for another inane article, I thought it would be the ideal opportunity to correct his false assumptions.”

Sherlock’s eyebrows rose as Molly stared at him.

“Bit not good?”

Molly smiled fondly at him.

“You don’t care what people think, I mean articles like that don’t normally bother you. Why was this one different?”

Sherlock’s face contorted as he tried to find the words for his emotions. Molly waited her face placid. Sherlock was getting better expressing emotions, but it wasn’t always easy for him. After a few moments Sherlock began to speak.

“All Carter’s recent articles have been a pathetic attempt to get a response from me. Not on the same level of power play as Moriarty, or Magnussen; not even in the same league as them. Carter just wanted some flash in the pan scoop to sell more of that trashy rag. The jibes at my bad manners; the speculation on my sexuality; mocking your fashion sense, none of that registered for me. Then he attacked your intelligence and I got annoyed. What right has that man to belittle the wonderful mind of one of the most important people in my life? Molly, you’re giving me that look. I’m being sappy aren’t I?”

Molly smiled and rubbed her hand up his calf.

“Yes you are, but in your own uniquely Sherlocky way.”

His pout gave way to a smile as he continued;

“I confess I didn’t expect to react so physically to watching you take him down a peg. I hope that does happen to me at a real crime scene.”

Molly chuckled and leant over to poke a finger at his forehead.

“Not a chance. Your upstairs head in firmly in charge on a real case.”

He caught her hand in his and playfully nibbled her finger. His voice dropped low as he said;

“There’s no case right now. And you have the rest of the day free.”

Molly chuckled at him and gently pulled her hand away.

“Lestrade called while you were washing your hair. He’ll be here soon with a new case.”

Sherlock’s eyes lit up and he bounced off the bed towards his wardrobe to finish dressing, all suggestive thoughts gone from his mind. Molly simply wandered into the kitchen to put the kettle on. The scarcely touched tea in Mycroft’s usual cup sitting on the worktop puzzled her for an instant, but the arrival of Greg and the buzz of a new case made her forget all about it.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay a few explanations - 
> 
> Title refers to the door of Sherlock's flat. It's a good job it can't talk because as a fandom we're a bit obsessed with OTPs doing the do against it ;)
> 
> Calliphoridae - are blow flies, the first insect to arrive at a crime scene.
> 
> Sherlock speaks Latin to Molly. I have this headcanon that Molly laughed the first time Sherlock said she was 'Brilliant' during sex, because that's a John word. So now he uses different languages, because Molly shouldn't be thinking of John during sex.  
> Admirabilius -astounding  
> Egregie - brilliant  
> Mirabilem - wonderful   
> Callidus - clever  
> (according to Google translate, please feel free to correct if you speak Latin)


End file.
